Give Your Feet a Chance
by Assumption327
Summary: Clato one-shots. It's sort of a consecutive story, but I think one-shots just describes it better
1. Chapter 1

Just a little Cato/Clove one-shot for you. This is part of my one-shot weekends. My first one was a Dumbledore/Grindelwald fic called Too Easy. Enjoy it!

My current ongoing story is C'Mon, and Charlie Weasley fanfiction. My tumblr is spankthebatchild. Please review!

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Clove ran a well-manicured hand through her perfectly straightened hair. In past years, she only got dressed up for the show. She wouldn't spend too much time on her appearance except to look respectful. This year was different. This year was her year.

Reapings were pretty straightforward in District 2. They had all voted months before on who they wanted to be their tributes. No matter who was reaped, Clove would volunteer. After that, there would be no more volunteers. People had been impressed by ruthlessness, and they wanted to see it in the arena. Today was Clove's day.

She was wearing a tight red dress that nicely complimented her hair. There was a slight shimmer to her dress, but nothing to extreme. Clove looked back into the mirror and was happy with what she saw. She looked threatening and determined. Her work here was done, but she still had a long time before the actual reaping.

She stormed down the stairs in her high heels, ignoring her mother's rule about no heels on the stairs. Her mother's endless rules wouldn't matter soon.

"Clove!" her mother yelled when she saw her daughter. Clove expected to be yelled at, but instead her mother came running at her and threw her arms around her. "You look gorgeous," she said. "Today's the big day! Make your district proud."

"It's the only thing that I know how to do," Clove reassured her. It was the truth. From the age of ten, Clove had been put to training in secret from the Capitol. It had taken five years for the people of District 2 to vote her as tribute. What eventually led them to believe that Clove was the best option? Her knife throwing skills had stunned all who watched her practice. She could throw a knife more accurately than District 2's best archers could shoot an arrow.

Clove wandered out of her house and into the streets of District 2. She had one more thing that she wanted to do.

It wasn't hard to find Cato. He was sitting in his usual place, the roof of one of the textile factories. His feet hung over the edge, and he seemed not to hear Clove approach. She debated surprising him, but just as she got close enough, Cato pounced on her.

Clove was ready though. She reached into her shoe and tore out her switchblade. She kicked off her shoes and pushed Cato off of herself. They stood a few feet away from each other, both in a fighting stance. Cato started to laugh and put his hands up in defeat.

"As soon as it's long distance, I know I'm a goner," he joked. Clove laughed and put her knife back into her shoe.

"Are you excited?" she asked, sitting down. Cato plopped down next to her and put an arm around her shoulder.

No one knew about the details of Clove and Cato's relationship. It could have had a negative effect on the votes in their favor. People might assume that they wouldn't be willing to do away with each other in end if necessary. Kisses and gentle touching were left to times when they were alone.

"Yeah, I'm excited," Cato answered. "This is what we've been waiting for." He rubbed her arms affectionately and pressed a kiss to her temple. Clove clenched her stomach in unhappiness, and Cato could sense it immediately. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to kill you," Clove admitted while closing her eyes to stop the tears from coming, "but if it comes to that, I will. You can't take this win away from me."

"Same goes to you," Cato agreed. "We're both good enough that we'll be the last two. It'll be a fair fight." Clove nodded. "Until that moment, let's just have fun with it! C'mon, Clove!" he said playfully punching her arm. "We're going to the Hunger Games!" Clove smiled.

"You're right," she said. "May the odds be ever in your favor!" They both chuckled and forgot about killing each other for the time being. They were cross that bridge when they came to it.

It would be fun in the arena. Clove was sure of it. She really did enjoy her practices, and the arena would be no different. People were bound to sponsor her. She was bound to win. There wasn't a doubt in her mind about coming home. She just wished that Cato would be able to come home with her.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games, Cato, Clove, or anything else for that matter

Warnings: Implied sexy stuff

A while ago I think I accidentally uploaded some of my Gadge stuff into this. That was an accident. If you're looking for it, it is called The Part Where You Let Go

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Training was so easy that Clove found it boring. She already knew her strengths, and if she hadn't learned something in her five years of training at home, she doubted she would learn it in the Capitol. From an outsider, it would have seemed like Clove was simply practicing knife throwing, but that was simply a cover. Clove was observing each and every tribute and taking note of their skills. So far, she wasn't too impressed. Most of the tributes weren't memorable or that skilled. A couple showed promise for an interesting fight, but Clove had a feeling that the games would go by quickly.

It was the end of another day of boredom, but Clove had worked harder than usual. The next day she would be entering the arena. The next day, things would get real. The palms of her hands had become sore from gripping knives so tightly; so, she had resorted to other exercises. She hung from a pull-up bar and did crunches. Almost all the other tributes had left to get an early start on their night of rest. Cato sauntered up next to her.

"How long have you been doing that?" he asked. Mid pull-up, Clove checked her watch.

"Half an hour," she answered with a grunt. She flipped off the bar and landed with a bump. She grabbed some tape from a table near her and started to wrap her hands.

"You planning on going to bed at any point?" Cato questioned innocently. When Clove looked at his face though, she could see that his intentions were anything but innocent. There was a sparkle in his eye that only appeared when he wanted something specific from Clove and feeling particularly good about himself.

"Not tonight, Cato," Clove replied. She watched as his face fell, and she couldn't blame him for his feelings. This was possibly their last night together unless they got time alone in the arena. Would Clove even want time alone with Cato in the arena? Would it just make things worse? She felt herself choke up a bit. "Why don't you come to my room and we'll talk for a little while," she proposed.

They both wandered out of the training room together. On the way out, Clove suddenly found Cato's hand in hers. She didn't remember taking it. They got into the elevator and rode up to the second floor in silence. Clove felt the sudden urge to cry, but she held it back. Clove didn't cry. She especially didn't cry about something like the games. She had wanted this for too long to throw it away.

In a flash, Cato had her pressed up against the wall, and his hands had begun wandering down her sides. His mouth found hers, and Clove was suddenly desperate to kiss him, touch him, be with him. She reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, expecting this to go somewhere, but Cato pulled away just as quickly as he had initiated it. Clove heard a small whimper leave her throat as she lost the pressure of his body leave hers.

"What was that?" she demanded angrily.

"I wanted to do that," Cato shrugged, "but you didn't want sex tonight. I figured that this was a good compromise."

"Tease," Clove grumbled. The elevator doors opened and they climbed out into their apartment.

Clove pulled Cato to her room, but found herself glad that he had stopped things from going further in the elevator. All she wanted was to have the chance to have a heart to heart conversation for the last time. Contrary to popular belief, Cato really did have a heart. Neither Cato nor Clove liked having a conversation during sex. She and Cato sat across from each other on the bed, and she rested her head in his hand.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"Hmmmm?"

"What do you think of the other tributes?" he clarified. Clove smiled.

"I think we've got this in the bag." Cato chuckled and stared at his girlfriend's features. They had been too lazy to turn on the light, but he could make out her features in the din. Her sharp, dainty nose and angled chin had been imprinted in his mind.

"It'll be you and me in the end," he agreed. "It'll be a pretty intense end fight for the viewers."

"Nah," Clove argued. "As soon as it become close range, it'll be over." Cato nodded and cocked his head to the side, the way he always did when he was thinking.

"What if I don't let it become close range," he proposed. "Either way it'll bring honor to our district." Clove's jaw dropped open, and she shook her head in disbelief. She was grateful now that the room was dark because she felt a tear slip from her eye.

"Absolutely not," she commanded. "You will not throw the fight. If you do… I'll stop fighting. You will not throw the fight." Her voice cracked on the last word, but she didn't think that Cato would notice or care.

"Fine," he agreed. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"It will, though," she assured him. "When it does, we'll give the good show that everyone is expecting. No throws. You're too much of a champion for that."

"No throws," Cato agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I ain't no whore! I don't do this for money! No, but seriously I don't own the Hunger Games

Warnings: Vague mention of blood I guess...

My tumblr is spankthebatchild. Please review and tell your friends about this story. If you have any requests about specific moments in the Hunger Games that you'd like me to write about, I'd be more than happy to meet those wants.

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Clove grinded her teeth as she listened to the countdown. In only fifteen seconds, the game would begin. She turned her head to give Cato a quick nod and a small smile. Then, she face the Cornucopia once more and prepared to run.

"Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one." As soon at Clove heard the final number called, she leapt up. There was a pack immediately place in front of her. She swung it onto her back and quickly found two knives in a side pocket. She saw a small boy running towards a pack not too far away. Without even needing to aim, Clove hit him square in the back. She ran quickly enough to pull it back out before he hit the ground. She pulled the second pack onto her back. Spinning around, she saw Katniss running off towards the words with a pack on her back.

Clove knew that Katniss was a force to be reckoned with. She brought her knife up in preparation for throwing it. Clove needed to aim at Katniss's side to cause any real damage. Clove would have made a direct hit, but her hand was slick with blood. The knife flew into Katniss's back, and she was off before Clove had a chance to retry.

"Clove!" Cato shouted. She reluctantly turned away from Katniss and helped finish off the rest of the easy prey.

Later Clove left the rest of the group while they set up a kind of camp ground. She found a gentle flowing brook and dipped her hands into it. The water turned red around them. For a moment, Clove felt sick, but she brushed the feeling aside. This was fun. This was what she had wanted to do for so long. Finally, her chance had come. She began to scrub away at the hardened blood. It was the tributes' own faults for not training harder. Anyone could win the games. They just had to want it enough. Clove wanted it.

"Clove," Cato greeted running up to her laughing. "Did you see that curly head kid? I don't know what he was thinking! Such an easy kill!" Clove laughed.

"Yeah," she agreed. "This will be over quick. How's the camp?"

"Great," Cato answered sitting down next to her and washing the blood off of his own hands. "We were thinking of going out tonight. We want to see if we can knock down the numbers even more before tomorrow!"

"I'm in," Clove shouted. She needed something to get her mind off the impending future and what it would mean for Cato. What better thing than a little recreation? Cato smiled and pulled her closer to himself. He placed a kiss to the top of head. Clove let herself fall into the romance of it before realizing what was going on and pulling away. She stared him with bewilderment.

"What?" Cato questioned.

"Not here," she protested. "Not for the world to see. I'm not porn." Cato shrugged.

"Alright," he agreed. "Your loss." They sat in silence for a moment.

"Do you think we'll get any sponsors?" Clove asked.

"Yeah! Tons!" Cato reassured her. "The Capitol loved us!"

"When will we need sponsors though? I can't imagine needing anything. I've already got knives. I don't anything else," Clove pointed out.

"I'm sure they'll think of some kind of gift."

At that moment, and parachute came floating down from the sky. Cato smiled at Clove and gestured for Clove to take it. She greedily grabbed it before it hit the ground. Attached to parachute was a slender wooden box with a little metal clasp. She carefully undid the clasp and lifted up the lid. Inside were five beautifully crafter knives. She picked one up and tested the weight in her hand. It was perfectly weighted for her strength and size. On the end of the handle "Made in District Two," was carved. It was a little piece of home.

"Let me see," Cato requested. She handed it over, and he inspected it. "They're obviously for you," he laughed. "I'm no good with throwing knives, and these were created especially for you."

"You know my personalized weights?" she asked laughing.

"I've seen your knives often enough to recognize them," he answered shrugging. Clove had the sudden urge to test her new toys out.

"Go stand against that tree," she commanded. Cato eyed her suspiciously. Clove rolled her eyes. "Cato, you can trust me. I'm not ready to kill you yet."

He obediently stood against the tree she had pointed to. She hooked her five new knives into her belt and took a deep breath. In a flash she drew each one out. Practically as soon as each one left her belt, they left her hand. When each had been thrown, she surveyed her handy work. Cato had been successfully pinned to the tree by his shirt.

His breathing was shallow, and for a second Clove was afraid that she had injured him. She couldn't see any blood, and he hadn't cried out. She hadn't missed in a long time.

"Did I hit you?" she asked worriedly.

"No," Cato chuckled. "You just scared the shit out of me. It's kind of a turn-on." He laughed at Clove's scowl as she tore out each knife individually. When he was free, he caught her chin in his hand. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips. In anger, Clove pinned Cato back onto the tree with her knife.

"I said no," she growled. She drew her knife out again and stormed away. She wanted it to be nightfall. She wanted to kill.


End file.
